


Barkeep

by remember-gadreel (kams_log)



Series: Righteous Chaos [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Barkeeper Gadreel, FBI Agent Dean Winchester, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 21:07:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3784333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kams_log/pseuds/remember-gadreel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gadreel has worked as a bartender for many years. He's seen many faces pass through, some of who have stayed and some who have continued on. But it was Dean Winchester's face who stood out among the crowd.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barkeep

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on my gadreel blog: 
> 
> http://fallingforgadreel.tumblr.com/post/116860363632/barkeep

Gadreel had been working as a bartender for many years. He was fond of the many faces that would pass through, some of which who stayed, some of which would pass again. The regulars were usually good natured and kind, but there were always a few who looked to pick fights with some of the patrons and get some of their anger or frustrations out from the day.

While Gadreel’s job was to serve drinks and keep customers happy, his duties also fell to removing the trouble makers from the premises. It was never an easy task. Removing the drunken fighters usually resulted in some fairly nasty bruises, but it was nothing Gadreel couldn’t handle.

Tonight was quiet. There were a good number of their usual patrons in the bar. Some were in groups, socializing and drinking in celebration or friendly toasts. Others nursed beers alone in corners or booths. A man and a woman sat at the counter, flirting shamelessly and buying each other drinks. Gadreel imagined if they kept up their orders, neither one of them would be able to make it home.

“Hey, Ezekiel,” the man said with a wave. “Another one for the lady.”

Gadreel nodded in their direction and quickly as he was told. Ezekiel was his bar name, something the owner, a weaselly little man who called himself ‘Metatron,’ came up with. His real name was Marv, and it was his personal mission to rename every single employee he had. Gadreel imagined it was because the man didn’t like his own name, and spread his own paranoia to the renaming of others.

Not that Gadreel minded. His name wasn’t nearly as bad as some of his other coworkers, like Alphie, who’d been renamed ‘Samandriel.’ Many of the patrons still couldn’t get the boy’s name right.

Gadreel handed the drink over to the couple, and not a moment too soon. The man dropped his money on the table, the correct amount, took one sip of his drink and stood with the woman on his arm. Gadreel was mildly irked that the last drink was barely touched, but the couple had paid and he couldn’t complain. He drained the drink in the sink behind him and grabbed a rag to wipe down the area they’d been sitting. He couldn’t be certain, but he was sure they’d gotten a little too excited with their last two drinks.

He was wiping down when the bell over the door clanged. A man stepped in, his coat and hair drenched from the rain. He made his way over to the counter and collapsed onto a stool, resting his head in his hands tiredly.

Gadreel eyed him warily. It wasn’t uncommon for men or women to have a bad day and crash at the counter. But this man was new, a face Gadreel hadn’t seen before. He had dripping sandy blond hair. When his hands moved away, he caught sight of startling green eyes and freckles. He was a beautiful man, but there was a heaviness in his shoulders and gaze that spoke of years of hardship. Whatever was eating this man wasn’t like what bothered the other costumers.

“Rough day, my friend?” Gadreel said casually, drying off the counter before tossing the rag to the sink. The man groaned and nodded. He ran a hand through his wet hair and sat up straight. A rushed smile spread across his face and he quickly pointed to the bottles on the rack.

“Anything up there for sale?” The man asked. His voice was low and deep, rumbling like thunder through the space between them. Gadreel smirked and nodded.

“Always is.”

“Give me your strongest.”

Gadreel nodded and did as he was told. The man didn’t offer any other details aside from a quick ‘rocks or no,’ and soon enough Gadreel was handing a small glass to the customer.

The man took a solid sip and didn’t even flinch at the burn undoubtedly running down his throat. “Hell yes,” he grumbled and pressed the glass to his forehead. “Thanks, uh…”

“Ezekiel,” Gadreel replied simply, grabbing the old glasses and taking a moment to wash them. No one new was coming in, and everyone else seemed satisfied for the moment. He could take a moment to talk with the man at his counter. He looked like he could use some company, even if only for a few minutes.

The man grinned, a flash of white teeth decorating his smile. “No it’s not.”

Gadreel raised an eyebrow, but smiled as well. “Oh?”

“Nope,” the man replied. “One, you don’t look like a ‘Zeke. Two, I’m pretty good with most kinds of people. That ain’t your name. So what is it for real?”

Gadreel shook his head, but his gentle smile didn’t falter. “Gadreel. Ezekiel is my business name. Owner’s idea.”

“Heh. Must be a hellava’ owner.”

“He is… interesting.”

The man tilted his head back and laughed. It rang clear and true, a sound that make Gadreel’s face brighten.

“And what is your name?” Gadreel asked, moving on to clean the next glass. The man’s smile faltered and he shook his head.

“Dean,” the man replied tiredly, finally turning his attention back to the drink in his hands. He stared at it for several moments before taking another sip. “Winchester.”

Gadreel’s eyes raised, understanding suddenly dawning.

The Winchesters. They’d been drawing quite some attention from their small town. The three men, all agents for the government, had tracked a national criminal to the town over from theirs. The chase had led to Gadreel’s own hometown before the famous Dean Winchester shot the criminal between the eyes.

And now here the man sat, nursing the strongest drink in the bar. In some ways, he looked exactly as Gadreel imagined. A green eyed, golden haired hero that ran across the country hunting down villains of society, terrorists, or any other names of monsters and criminals. Gadreel could easily picture this man standing in front of danger with a smirk on his face.

But the person who sat in front of him was only a man, haunted just like the rest of humanity and hoping to forget about it for a night. And Gadreel could help with that.

“What?” Dean asked, looking irritated by Gadreel’s stunned silence. “Expecting someone bigger? Better? Less pretty?” The last words sounded like a forced attempt at joviality, but it fell flat in the air between them and left a bitter taste behind.

“No,” Gadreel replied finally. “You are exactly as I pictured you.”

“Yeah?” Dean sounded disbelieving, but a curious glint caught his eyes. Gadreel decided he liked the look, very much. “And what do you see?”

Gadreel set his things down in the sink and leaned forward on his arms. Their eyes level, both men leaning forward almost comically conspiratorial, Gadreel replied, “I see a hero. I see a man who’s been running across the country for years, making a name for himself in taking down serious threats to our society, guaranteeing a safer tomorrow for all of us.”

Dean looked ready to interrupt, but Gadreel raised a hand and continued, “And I also see a man who probably would love to have a drink once in a while and forget about the day, and would probably be better served surrounded by some friends who love him.”

The man stared back at Gadreel, his green eyes wide and surprised. His mouth opened and closed multiple times, but he didn’t pull back. Finally, he licked his lips and said quietly, “I have friends. I’m just not so sure how many of them would… get it. You know?”

Gadreel smiled kindly. “I do. We all have our demons, after all.”

Dean smirked at that and raised his glass. “That we do.”

He stayed till closing time, occasionally talking a bit more when Gadreel had some free time and drinking when he was busy. He left that night looking better than he came in, so Gadreel hoped that he was well off.

Which was why he was surprised when Dean Winchester walked into his bar again the next night, and every other evening after. They continued to talk during Gadreel’s free time, Gadreel filling Dean’s glass when he wasn’t.

A few weeks later when Dean asked him when his shift ended, and if he might be free later, Gadreel said yes. It was one of the best decisions he ever made.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you guys liked it!


End file.
